Chapter 16

T he FBI field office in Georgia was functional but beginning to resemble a typical government working environment. Blue carpeting helped absorb the noise caused by agents talking on the phone and typing furiously into their computers.

A glass-walled conference room with a large screen and a whiteboard sat off to the side, with blinds for privacy. Banks of computers and keyboards lined a long table near a maze of cubicles.

Gray cubicles filled the main room, with laptops, calendars and desk lamps at each working space. Jace spent time in the small, private interrogation room interviewing Dylan.

He'd hit a brick wall.

The kid wasn't talking. He made his one phone call—to Kara's father. Then he shut down, saying he wasn't speaking another word until his attorney arrived tomorrow. He wouldn't even give them a hint about Marcus.

Rafe had let him handle the interrogation, until deputies arrived to escort Dylan to the local jail just before midnight. Two agents accompanied them.

He needed to find Kara, but first, he had business to deal with. Weary, the lack of sleep getting to him, Jace headed to Rafe's assigned office.

Three walls of glass formed the office. An American flag sat in the corner near a small conference table and two black sofas. The wall behind the credenza was dark paneling, with built-in shelves holding law journals and manuals. Neatly stacked file folders lay upon the credenza, along with stacks of paper.

The wood desk was equally functional, with a desk lamp, blotter, pencil box and laptop. The only concession to decor was a silk plant in the corner.

In a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a blue silk tie loosely knotted, Rafe sat at the desk, working on his laptop. He glanced up as the door opened. Jace didn't bother knocking. He was too angry.

"I knew this would happen. Kid's lips are sealed. He won't talk until his attorney is here. I told you to let Kara in the room. She could have reassured him."

"Against protocol and you know it. Where's Kara?" Rafe turned his attention back to his computer.

"She took an Uber to a hotel. A hotel of her choosing. Soon as I'm done here, I'm going to track her down. She's pissed at me, Rafe, and I don't blame her. I told her the prosecutor would cut Dylan a deal. And now I find out Dylan may be charged with a felony?"

"Never make promises like that." Rafe shook his head. "We're not the US attorney's office. We only find and arrest the bad guys."

He paced the floor, feeling as if they had missed out on something.

"Any more word on this big incident Marcus plans?"

"Nothing recent. It's gone quiet." His boss leaned back. "Your part here is finished, Jace. You're off the case."

He whirled and stared at Rafe, feeling betrayed. "Are you serious? You're not letting me in on the takedown?"

"Afraid not."

"Rafe, I've been trying to prove myself to you for more than five years. I worked my ass off on this case. I'm totally committed to this assignment and this job. You need me."

"I need you on my team." Rafe leaned forward, elbows on the desk blotter. "Yeah, I do. But you took risks, Jace. Risks that could have cost lives. You took Kara with you, an unarmed civilian."

Exasperated, yet knowing Rafe was right, he jammed a hand into his hair. "I know. My bad."

"Without Kara, we never would have found Dylan. He's our star witness. With Dylan we can take down Lance and the others."

Jace felt the rug yanked from beneath him. "What? Then why am I off the case?"

"Because you're too close. Because your cover is blown and your life is at risk. You need to lie low for a while."

Releasing a string of Spanish swear words, he paced the office. "I can't believe you're doing this to me."

"It's to keep you safe, Jace. You did well, despite everything." Rafe twirled a gold pen in his fingers. "Kara was right. Dylan never would have talked to you, or anyone else. He needed someone he could trust. Don't worry about Kara and the prosecutor. She'll get over it when the attorney her father hired arrives tomorrow. He's good. Seen him in action before, and the US attorney's office isn't interested in hanging Dylan out to dry on this. They need him and I'm sure they'll work out a good deal."

"Then why...?"

"Because in this business you can't make promises you aren't sure you can keep." Rafe stared at the wall, his jaw tight. "I promised my guys last year it would be a simple takedown. And now they're dead."

Jace blew out a breath. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was. But that's another matter. For this, I did have a backup plan."

He picked up his office phone. "Is she out there? Bring her in."

Stunned, he watched the woman walk into Rafe's office. Jace stared. "You?"

"Pleased to see you again, Special Agent Beckett." Allison Lexington removed her motorcycle helmet. A waterfall of shoulder-length dark hair spilled out. Still attractive as ever.

"How the hell did you get here?" he demanded.

"Rode my bike here for hours after he—" she jerked her thumb at Rafe "—told me to come in."

Jace frowned. "You a cop?"

"Confidential informant, not by choice." She scowled at Rafe, who gave a slight smile. "After I saved Lance, Rafe threatened to arrest me for interfering with an official investigation."

"She was at the bike rally where Lance was running guns and got shot by a rival gang member. She treated him," Rafe added, his dark gaze centered on Allison. "Aiding and abetting someone who committed a felony is a second-degree offense."

Allison narrowed her eyes. "I told you, I didn't aid and abet. I treated a gunshot wound. I did my job. I'm a nurse. What, was I supposed to let him bleed out?"

"No, you were supposed to inform law enforcement of what happened so he could be arrested, not let him slip through your fingers."

"Pardon me for living, Agent Rodriguez. The guy had a gun to my head."

"Supervisory Special Agent Rodriguez," Rafe corrected. "I paid you to be a CI. I don't recall any complaints about the money."

"Considering I had to give up several lucrative nursing jobs, I deserved compensation. I'm a traveling nurse and I make more than you do, Supervisory Special Agent."

"I'm sure you do." Rafe seemed amused.

Jace watched, sensing chemistry between them.

Allison tossed back her long, brown hair. "May I leave now, since this assignment has ended? I trust you no longer need me. Unless you have another BS charge you want to slap on me to force me into spying for you. Only this time, I'm not getting close to a criminal gang."

A shadow crossed Rafe's face. "I told you if you ever sensed you were endangered, to pull out. I'm serious, Allison."

She gave a mock salute. "Right. As if I couldn't handle Lance and his crew. They were all trying to get me into bed, especially Snake. I have better taste than that."

"I'm sure you do," Rafe said softly.

Allison glared at him. "If you'll excuse me."

When she walked out the door, Rafe followed her with his dark gaze. Then he leaned back, the leather chair creaking.

"We have a new lead on Marcus."

This was news. Jace sat down. "Spill it."

"It didn't come from Allison, or Dylan, obviously, and there's no way you could have gotten the intel, Jace. It had to come from someone deep inside, who knew the club's inner workings. Someone who had been there before."

I've got a bad feeling about this . "A former club member?"

"Your father."

I knew it. I knew the old man couldn't stay away.

Feeling even more betrayed, Jace released a string of cuss words. Rafe held up his hand. "Whoa. Slow down. He doesn't know about you, or your cover. He's working with me totally separately on this case."

"You went after my old man because you didn't think I could deliver? Dammit, Rafe!"

Rafe shook his head, his voice calm. "I didn't. He approached me, Jace. He got out on parole and wanted to help. He's changed."

"Changed, my ass! He's still the same selfish prick—"

"He wanted to make up for the past, and leave a legacy of doing something good, Jace. For you. He said he didn't want his only son remembering him as a son of a bitch."

Rafe drummed his fingers on the armrest. "He doesn't know about you being under. He mentioned seeing a prospect or a new member at the garage, and was asking about getting a job at the garage. Said the guy was cold."

Cold? Not cold enough, apparently.

"When the hell were you going to tell me my old man works for you? Want to recruit my mother as well? She loves money."

"Stop it, Jace." Rafe's dark gaze narrowed. "I didn't want you to know because I knew you'd react like this. You've done a damn fine job inside, and I wasn't going to compromise your safety."

"Right." Jace started for the door. "I've got a ton of paperwork. Rafe, next time you want to play mother hen on me, remember I'm a qualified, trained agent. If you coddle all of us, the criminals you want to put behind bars will never get caught."

He slammed the door on the way out.

Though she was bone-tired, sleep proved impossible for Kara. The thought of Dylan locked up in a dingy jail cell, terrified and alone, made her stomach roil.

No use in hanging around the field office, but she couldn't abandon Dylan. She promised to be there for him.

Jace had not.

She had showered and dressed in fresh clothing, too wound up to sleep. Kara looked at the television remote, shuddered and sat on the bed.

A knock stirred her from examining her conscience. Kara went to the door, peered out the peephole.

"Sorry, ma'am, there's a matter of your credit card being denied."

She started to reach for the dead bolt and stopped. Common sense overruled emotions. The man's voice was too rough, too deep, to be the same desk clerk who'd checked her into the room.

"I'll call the front office," she told the man, not unlocking the door.

"We need to take care of this now." The man jiggled the doorknob.

Kara's heart raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Ironic how she and Jace had remained barely one step ahead of the danger constantly chasing them and suddenly now, as she was alone, someone had caught up to her. The sickly fluorescent light outside provided little illumination for her to properly see who wanted to get inside.

"Go away," she said in a loud voice. "I'll call the front desk and leave another credit-card number."

No footsteps indicating the man walked off. Instead, he pounded on the door.

"Open the damn door!" He pounded on the door. "Bitch, open it now!"

She backed up. The flimsy door vibrated with a loud thud. It splintered and buckled as the man forcefully kicked it open.

Terror filled her as a hulking figure loomed in the doorway. The intruder was short, wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off. Ink covered his bare arms. Most prominent was a Devil's Patrol tat on his left forearm.

His beer belly hung over a leather belt like a waterfall. And then she recognized him. Even though the lighting cast his face mostly in shadow, she knew.

"Lance," she said, stumbling back. "What do you want?"

Heart pounding in her chest, she backed away from him, frantically thinking of exits. He must be searching for Jace.

The man's face was a grotesque mask of anger and determination, his rough features twisted into a menacing sneer, accented by the scar on his cheek.

"You can't run forever. Got you. Finally."

Fear jolted through her. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but the window was too small. Her phone was inside her purse, just out of reach. She was trapped. Her gaze dropped to his waist. The Devil's Patrol carried guns. But he made no move to withdraw a weapon.

Maybe he thinks I'm helpless. Let him think that way.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, trying to control her terror.

He grinned. "You. Someone special wants you."

The man licked his lips. "He didn't mind if I had a little fun first. Jace kept bragging about how you were a great lay."

Adrenaline fueled her body. She ran for the bathroom, closed the door and locked it. It wouldn't hold. It wasn't designed to keep out huge, hulking monsters who wanted to assault her.

Outside, Lance hammered at it, yelling at her. Kara whipped her gaze around for a weapon. Anything. Shampoo? Thoughts raced through her head.

Oh, God, what did he want other than to attack her? Why did the gang leader want her? Why couldn't she have done as Jace wanted and let an agent take her to safer, more refined hotel?

She spotted the toilet tank. This.

Lifting the ceramic lid, she cringed at the thick layer of ugly black mold ringing the cover. Kara waited, praying Lance would stop. But, no, he was kicking the door...he was inside, advancing toward her with a leer. No gun. No, he planned to overpower her with brute force.

Kara swung at the man with all her might. The toilet tank lid connected with his chin, and he released a surprised grunt, and staggered backward, moaning as blood gushed from his jaw. Lance released a string of violent obscenities.

Not waiting to see if he would faint, or lunge or shoot her, she grabbed her purse and bolted, running for the office as she reached for her cell phone. Cool night air hit her face felt like a welcome embrace. Her feet pounded on the pavement as she sprinted into the darkness, praying that she could outrun her attacker.

Favor was with her, as the night clerk was emerging from the back as she stormed inside the office.

"Help, please, call the police! I've been attacked!"